Page 82 of Catch Me
“I have siblings.”
“Right. Sorry, I forgot.”
“Not my step-siblings. My dad has a couple kids with his wife.”
“Do you see them often?”
He shook his head, staring into the fire. It didn’t look like he was upset about the conversation. He just seemed zoned out.
“My dad’s a dick,” he said after a while. “He’s not abusive or anything like that. He’s just selfish and hateful of a lot of people. His other kids seem happy, though, and he’s more involved with them than he was with me.”
I wished he’d look at me, but he kept his gaze on the flames. “That’s unfair, but maybe he’s in a different place than he was when you were a kid. Do you have a good relationship with him?”
He huffed a laugh. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if that’ll last, though.”
“Why not?”
“For one, he doesn’t like that I’m going to art school.”
My brow furrowed and I felt anger stir inside of me. “He’s seen how talented you are, right? How could he not be proud of what you’re doing?”
“He’s a tattoo artist, and that’s what he wants me to do.”
I glanced at the ink on his wrist, peeking out of his sleeve. “Did you want to back then?”
He shook his head once. “He put me into art lessons as a kid because he saw that I loved to draw. It was always so that I could be like him, but I never wanted to tattoo people. He thought I’d change my mind, yet here I am, making useless art that will get lost among all the others who think they’ll make it big.”
“Don’t get me wrong; I respect tattoo artists, but I find it messed up to think one form of art is superior to another. I think he wants you to work with him because he sees how incredible you are and you’d excel. Without a passion for it, though, art becomes meaningless. If he can’t see that what you’re doing now makes you happy, then he’s blind and an idiot.”
There was a rueful smile on his face. “Maybe one of his other kids will follow in his footsteps and he won’t need me anymore.”
My chest felt tight at his words. I stood, and he finally looked at me as I moved my chair closer to his. Reaching out, I took his chin and turned his face so that I could see his eyes.
“Explain that.”
“What?” he asked.
“There’s something deeper there, and I want to know why you looked resigned to it.”
He turned and broke my hold. When I lowered my hand, he took it in his, holding onto my fingers. His thumb traveled across my knuckles, and I watched him repeat the movement, back and forth.
“You want me to be honest?”
“Always,” I replied.
“It feels like I never really fit anywhere. My dad moved to Idaho after Ross told his church that he didn’t see his sons as sinners and all that. Now, he has two kids, and when I’m there, it just feels weird.”
“You have your mom.”
“Yeah, but they’re a family. Tilian acts like he’s the problem child and the black sheep, but theylovehim. He’s good and he fights for what’s right. They’ve never seen him as a problem; they just didn’t know what the hell to do with him.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “It was me and my mom for a while. I’m not really part of the whole family, and that’s probably my fault because I tormented Alex and Til. Even at school, I don’t know where I belong, and I don’t fit in with my friends anymore.”
“Does it make you feel lonely?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if that makes me unhappy or if it’s just being me that does it.”
“Maybe you still need to figure out who you are,” I ventured. “Then, you can discover where you fit and what you want from life.”
“I think you’re right.”
